Hermione's Secret
by LaRosedesVents
Summary: Discover another side to Hogwarts' cleverest witch in this light-hearted romance. Post DH,  epilogue ignored, Snape didn't die. HG/SS
1. Chapter 1 : Upheaval

_*This is my first fanfiction ever. I have always loved HG/SS so I am going to try to write my own version of it. I hope that you enjoy the first chapter - reviews would be very much appreciated!_

**Hermione's Secret Wish**

**CH1**

It had been two years since the war had ended. Hermione Granger, now nearly twenty years old, had settled into an apartment overlooking Diagon Alley. She had spent a year traveling around Europe campaigning for equal rights for House Elves and another interning as a journalist for the _Daily Prophet_, occasionally writing commentaries on social issues in the magical world. She should have been happy; many would have killed for her internship, she had been seeing Ron for about a year and her friendships had never been stronger. Yet, Hermione was coping with an increasing restlessness and unease with her existence; surely there was more to life than walking to the same office and seeing the same faces every day? Surely, there was more to life the editing dull wordy articles? A wistful look came into her warm brown eyes as she contemplated her reflection. She was consumed by a wave of nostalgia – a longing, but for what? It was a strange nostalgia, for it wasn't for the past, but rather for the way she wished life had turned out – even though she couldn't define how it should have been. All she knew is that she often woke up wishing she were somebody else somewhere else.

Sighing, she adjusted her ivory silk blouse. Simple and understated, it complemented the warm undertones of her skin, tawny mass of curls – decidedly less bushy than it had been during her years at Hogwarts – and bright brown eyes. Hermione had become quite attractive since she left school; two years had added a much needed maturity to her face and a new grace to her figure. While she would never be as breathtaking as Fleur Delacour, she was undeniably pretty; her features were small and regular, her lips bow-shaped and her shoulders delicate, lending her a discreet but very feminine charm. She also had a very petite and well-proportioned figure; slender legs encased in slim-fitting black trousers, a tiny midsection and a trim hourglass shape. She picked up her olive trench coat and headed out to meet Ron for dinner. They had planned to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, where he was working as a bartender; old Tom was no longer young and needed help running the place. When she arrived, she saw Ron perched on a stool, roaring at something the blonde behind the bar had said. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she watched. The girl had long platinum hair and a huge cleavage in what looked like a bubblegum-pink corset. Her face was familiar…wait, it was Lavender Brown! Hermione clenched her fists, trying to keep calm as she walked over to Ron.

"Oh, hi 'Mione," said Ron blushing guiltily as he tore his eyes from Lavender's impressive décolletage.

"Oh, Hermione," Lavender's gaze was clearly sizing her up, "I didn't know you two were still in touch."

"Oh, we've been seeing each other for a while now," answered Hermione coolly, "I didn't know you worked here."

Lavender tossed her shiny hair over her slim shoulders and giggled, "Ooh, Ron, does this mean I'm your dirty little secret?"

Giving her a contemptuous glance, Hermione pulled Ron by the arm, saying, "Come on, let's go somewhere classier"

As soon as they were out of the smoky pub, Hermione's anger was unleashed.

"Why didn't you tell me that SHE worked there?"

"Hermione, I didn't think it mattered," Ron said, looking irritated.

"Oh come on, she is CLEARLY making a play for you. And you don't seem to mind, I saw you staring at her cleavage and flirting with her when I came in!"

"That's ridiculous," scoffed Ron, trying to be dismissive.

"Really? So why didn't you bother mentioning that we're seeing each other?"

"It just didn't come up, OK?" Now Ron was looking quite exasperated.

"No wonder you don't want to start looking for a serious job, with her walking around there half dressed!"

"Hermione, we've talked about this before. I have plenty of time to start looking for a job, I just want to have fun right now – and what's wrong with the Leaky Cauldron?"

"You can't seriously tell me that you want to spend your life working as a bartender. And Ron, if you want to have a chance at becoming an auror, you need to start applying early, it's so competitive…"

"Stop nagging me, OK? You're worse than my mother!"

"But you need to be sensible Ron…"

"No, I don't, now will you shut up about it?"

Furious at being told to shut up and still steaming over the incident with Lavender Brown, Hermione's eyes flashed as she shouted, "If talking to me is such an ordeal, then don't put yourself through dinner with me!"

"Fine, I won't!" shouted Ron.

Feeling angry tears coming to her eyes, Hermione whirled around and disapparated. When she was on firm ground again, she was outside Harry and Ginny's apartment. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she knocked at the door. Seconds later, it opened to reveal Ginny, glowingly pretty in a royal blue silk cocktail dress with her flaming hair loose and tousled.

"Hermione!" said Ginny looking surprised, "We weren't expecting you…are you alright?" she added, noticing Hermione's watery eyes.

"I'm so sorry to barge in like this Ginny. I just wanted to have a chat with Harry, but it looks like you're going out, so I can come back…"

"Oh don't be silly, come in, I'm not quite ready, you can talk to him while I finish applying my make-up" she ushered Hermione in, taking her coat for her.

Harry was in the living room, reading the newspaper. When he heard Hermione's footsteps, he said, "Finally, I thought you'd never be read-" He looked up and stopped in surprise when he saw Hermione.

"Hermione! I didn't know you were coming over."

"I wasn't," Hermione said, pacing and wringing her hands, "It's just…Harry, I need to talk to you."

"Is something wrong?" he asked, "Sit down"

She sat down next to him. She gave him a brief account of the evening.

"I just don't get it Harry! He's been working at that dead end job for over a year and he doesn't seem bothered about looking into real career options. Every time I try to talk to him about it, he's either dismissive or gets angry. I don't understand that he just doesn't seem to care. And he's spent so much time there in the last couple of months – when I saw him with that bimbo tonight, I just knew why he's been so keen to take on new shifts. She dresses like a complete tart Harry and Ron doesn't care how stupid she is as long as her cleavage is out. I think maybe Ron and me should just break up."

"Come on Hermione," said Harry, putting his arm around her shoulders (somewhat awkwardly), "You know what Ron's like. He's never been one to worry about the future; he likes a good time. Just give him the space and he'll decide on his own about his career goals. Nagging will just irritate him. And forget about Lavender; remember how sick of her Ron was at Hogwarts? He'd never want something like that, not really. He probably didn't say anything about her because he hasn't given her much thought. You don't want to throw away a great relationship over a silly argument, do you? It's you and Ron, everyone always knew you'd end up together."

His words were reassuring. "Thanks Harry," said Hermione, giving his arm a squeeze, "You're right, I overreacted about Lavender. And maybe I've been too bossy with Ron. Yes, we were always supposed to be together. I think I'll go over now and say I'm sorry."

"There you are!" exclaimed Harry as Ginny appeared, radiant in her floating dress. He turned to Hermione, "We're heading out now, but good luck with Ron. I'm sure it will be fine."

"Have a good night and thanks Harry" said Hermione smiling at her friends. She disapparated. This time she was back at her apartment. She changed out of her blouse and trousers to put on a strapless jade green dress that Ron had always liked. The fitted bodice showed off her slim shoulders and petite frame while the flared skirt danced around her graceful legs as she walked. She added a smear of peachy lip gloss, gold high-heeled sandals and a tiny star-shaped pendant that glittered at her neck. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she disapparated.

Ron's apartment was above the Leaky Cauldron. She knocked at the door and waited outside. It was chilly, and she shivered as goosebumps crawled across her shoulders. Ron took a while to come to the door. She'd almost decided to leave when the door opened. He was standing in a white t-shirt and striped boxer shorts that she knew well, looking shocked to see her.

"Ron," she said, running up and hugging him as he stood still. "I'm so sorry about last night. I completely overreacted and I'm sorry I was nagging you. Let's go out now. See I got all dressed up for you?" She laughed spinning herself around to show him her dress.

"It's OK Hermione, but I'm a bit tired, talk to you tomorrow maybe?"

Something was wrong. He was practically closing the door on her, eyes darting behind him, flushing as he always did when he felt guilty or nervous. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Ron, let me in" she said firmly, trying to push the door open.

It was then that she heard it. The click of high heels, the familiar plaintive voice, "Won-Won?"

Ron had now given up trying to shut her out. Lavender stood in the hallway, her long shapely legs encased in fishnet stockings, lurid pink stilettos heels on her feet, matching garter panties at her hip and her huge breasts bare. "Oops," she giggled, affecting a guilty expression while looking exceedingly pleased with herself.

Hermione felt her stomach knot up as she gasped for air. She was in shock; her suspicion had not been unfounded after all. Here she had been about to apologize for "overreacting" – and there was Ron, cheating on her with a bleached blonde bimbo with big boobs and no brains. She stared up at him hatefully.

"Hermione…" he began. She slapped him viciously, seething.

"How dare you? After insisting that I was being unreasonable you're having sex with er the minute my back is turned!"

"We had a fight! Hermione, I was angry, I wasn't thinking…"

"Clearly," said Hermione looking distastefully at Lavender. The girl had now come forward, staring at Ron angrily.

"You seemed to be thinking fine over the last six weeks!" she spat at him, her cheap accent more pronounced than ever.

"Six weeks?" said Hermione quietly, looking at Ron's guilty face. "You disgust me."

She turned and disapparated before she could hear Ron's useless pleas and pathetic excuses. Once more, she was in her room, in front of her mirror, sobbing in her beautiful green dress. She caught a glance at herself, and once more felt that urge to be anywhere but here.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2 : Upside Down

_The second chapter is here! Thank you so much to everyone who has subscribed / commented - it's encouraging!_

**Hermione's Secret Wish**

**CH2**

Sunlight streamed in through the off-white chiffon curtains; it was two in the afternoon. Hermione lay curled up on her bed, still wearing her dress and heels. Now she opened her eyes, momentarily confused as she looked down at herself. And suddenly she remembered Lavender Brown's pink stilettos and Ron's red face. Her stomach clenched into a familiar knot and she longed to stay asleep; it was a struggle to hoist herself to a sitting position. The muscles of her neck and back ached, her head was heavy and she felt ill. Just yesterday, everything had been normal and now it was all turned upside down. As she got up and walked to her bathroom, her thoughts were on the previous night. Try as she may to chase it from her mind, it was returned like a hideous refrain to taunt her. As she undressed and stepped into a steaming shower, she kept thinking about Ron, her friend, the person that everyone had always expected her to end up with. She thought of Lavender, exactly the type of woman she detested; vapid, superficial and sluttish. She remembered Ron's admiring gaze; a gaze that should have been fixed on her but had rested on a cheap bottle blonde. In a brisk movement she turned the tap, shook out her rich brown curls and stepped out. After toweling herself dry, she slipped into grey flannel shorts and a cream t-shirt; it was Sunday and she had no intention of going anywhere. Her head was still heavy from sleeping in so late, so she made herself some hot black tea. As she sat sipping it and trying to get into a book by her favourite witch author Magda Heddlehuff, she found herself unable to settle down. She was miserable; plagued by that awful clenching feeling of anxiety that she was not capable of facing the disruption of her well-ordered world. She was almost glad of an excuse to set down her book when there was a knock at her door.

Peering through the peephole, she saw Harry standing outside, looking worried. With a guilty pang, she remembered that she had had lunch plans with Ginny and Harry.

"I'm so sorry Harry," she said opening the door, "I completely forgot that you and Ginny were having me over for lunch today."

"Hermione, is everything alright?" Harry asked, "We wondered what was happening when you didn't send a note to say you couldn't come."

"Oh Harry," Hermione felt a tear slip down her face.

Harry was still not comfortable dealing with tearful women – mostly because he rarely had to with Ginny – and very gingerly patted Hermione on the back as she hugged him.

When they had sat down, and Hermione had told him what had happened – through hiccups and tears – Harry was in shock.

"I can't believe he would…I mean, I always knew Ron could be unkind and inconsiderate, but…Lavender Brown? I don't know what to say Hermione, I always thought you two would be together."

"That's what I thought too," said Hermione bitterly.

"You don't deserve to be treated like this! I can't believe what he's done," burst out Harry suddenly, shock giving way to hot anger, "Gosh…when I tell Ginny about this…and Ron's going to hear from me soon…"

Hermione sat quietly. Harry turned to look at her.

"Can I do anything?" he asked tentatively, watching her face for a reaction.

She shook her head. "It's nice of you to ask Harry, but really, I just want to be alone right now."

"Well…alright," he stood up hesitantly, "If you're sure…"

"I am," answered Hermione firmly, "Go. And I'm so sorry about today."

"We'll be in touch Hermione," he squeeze her shoulder, "Try not to think about it."

She smiled weakly. As he was leaving, he almost collided with Crookshanks; the cat still lived with Hermione, though he sometimes disappeared for days at a time to roam freely and hunt rats. He slithered past Harry's legs and padded up to Hermione, who scooped him up as he purred.

"Oh Crookshanks," she sighed looking at his yellow eyes, "You'll be happy to hear that Ron won't be coming around anymore."

Crookshanks had never liked Ron; whenever he visited Hermione's apartment, Crookshanks would hiss and try to scratch him, glaring at him when he touched Hermione. The cat purred again and settled himself in Hermione's lap. She dozed off, spending most of her day in what seemed to be a confused, waking dream. There seemed to be something unreal about reality itself now that its careful balance had been upset. She slept uneasily, tossing and turning on her couch, so much that Crookshanks hopped off and curled up in her bed instead.

* * *

The next morning brought four owls for Hermione. One was Caer, Harry and Ginny's beautiful snowy white owl. The second was Errol, the Weasley owl – who knocked over a vase of flowers as he deposited the scroll and parcel - and the third Pigwidgeon, Ron's twittering little fourth was an imperious looking black owl bearing the Hogwarts crest.

Hermione opened the scroll from Ron first, deciding to get it over with. It was covered with hasty childish scribbles:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm so sorry about last night – but you have to admit, you've been nagging me for ages, you'd been really irritating lately and Lavender is always so fun to be with. It didn't mean anything – I stayed with you after all, right? Please let's just forget about it, everyone's so angry with me – Harry and Ginny sent me an owl telling me they were disgusted with me and didn't want to talk to me. Ginny actually came over and screamed at me for ages before hexing me. Lavender also got hexed and apparently Ginny was really rude. My whole family knows, my mum sent me a Howler early this morning. Don't you think I've paid enough now? Let's just make up, we were always supposed to be together, so don't be silly about this and throw everything away over something so meaningless._

_Can't wait to see you,_

_Ron_

Hermione was fuming; the letter was so typical of Ron – presumptuous, selfish and thoughtless. He wanted her back so that he wouldn't have to deal with the disapproval of his family and friends. He barely spared a thought for how she must be feeling; it was all about his discomfort. It was clear that he was still in touch with Lavender and yet he assumed that she would just take him back. He even seemed to be blaming her – saying that she had been nagging him, that now she was being "silly", overreacting – rather than acknowledging his fault. With an agile flick of her wand, she set the parchment on fire, smiling in satisfaction as it was reduced to ashes.

She opened the note from her friends; Ginny's bold scrawl stood out against the yellowed parchment in bold shining blue ink:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I was so angry when Harry told me what Ron had done. What an undeserving toad! Of all the idiotic things to do! I can't believe that he would be unfaithful to you; Ron obviously doesn't know how lucky he was to have someone like you be with him. Don't worry, I told him exactly what I thought of him and I hexed him – I'm rather good with the Stinging Jellyfish – let's just say that he won't be taking anyone to bed for a while. Who would want to take Lavender Slut Brown to bed anyway? She's disgusting. I actually went over to see her and told her exactly how cheap she was. You should have seen her place, it's so dirty, I wouldn't be surprised if she had fleas. She herself looks so guileless, so irritatingly stupid and tarty. I hexed her as well – I think she'll have to pile on the make-up for a while and I don't think it will help very much._

_Don't waste too much time thinking about him Hermione; I know everyone always thought you'd be together but I always thought you were slightly mismatched. I mean, Ron's going to end up with a pot belly behind the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. You were always the brightest witch of our age. _

_Take care – and remember we're here if you need us!_

_Ginny_

_P.S Harry, of course, always thought you two were a good match and is furious at Ron for messing things up. He won't talk to him. He sends his love._

Hermione smiled slightly at the thought of Ron and Lavender cowering under Ginny's fury and suffering from her vicious hexes. She then unrolled the parchment from the Weasley's; Mrs. Weasley's neat curly handwriting:

_Hermione dear,_

_We are so sorry about Ronald's atrocious behaviour. We were horrified when Ginny told us what he had done – taking up with that cheap-looking girl, well...really! I sent him a piece of my mind in a Howler, I hope that it woke him up early. I have never been so embarrassed by one of my sons before. Arthur is horribly disappointed, he does not want Ronald's name mentioned at table. We were so happy when you two first started seeing each other; we had always hoped you would, we always thought that you would be a good influence on Ronald...unfortunately he seems to be heading down the path we feared he might. Ronald has always been greedy – wanting things too much, too fast, the easy way...he doesn't seem to want to earn his pleasures, he seems to think that he can get away with treating life like a playground forever. We always hoped that he'd settle down with someone sensible like you dear. Really, I can't say how sorry I am that he has behaved this way towards you._

_Take care of yourself Hermione,_

_Mrs. Weasley_

Hermione smiled again; Ron had always dreaded Howlers, and she could image him trying to ignore Mrs. Weasley's deafening bellows and shrieking disappointment. She opened the parcel to find an assortment of small home-baked cakes, biscuits and sweets. She would have to thank Ron's mother for her thoughtful gesture.

At last, she opened the letter from Hogwarts. Precise, rather square black handwriting and perfectly aligned paragraphs stared back at her:

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well. It has now been two years since you left Hogwarts and I hear that you have a prestigious internship at the Daily Prophet. However, I would like to make you an offer; we are in need of a new Muggle Studies teacher. You may be young but I firmly believe that you would be a perfect fit for the position. You are one of the most brilliant witches that Hogwarts has ever seen and who better to teach the class than a Muggle-born?_ _With a little help from the rest of the staff, I am certain you could have an illustrious career at Hogwarts. We would be delighted if you accept this offer. _

_Classes begin in two weeks. Please let me know your response in the next week._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

Hermione sank down into her favourite soft armchair as she took in the glowing praise. Hogwarts! She was being asked to work at Hogwarts – as a teacher! Hogwarts, where she'd made her happiest and most exciting memories. Hogwarts, where she had made lifelong friends and discovered her gift for learning. Hogwarts...


	3. Chapter 3: Farewell

_Hi everyone! Third Chapter is here - rather shorter than the others, but it's a busy week (Halloween!) and this is more of a transitive chapter anyway. Thank you to all those who subscribed/reviewed - it's really encouraging._

**Hermione's Secret**

**CH3**

The rustle of curtains being drawn; the throwing-open of empty cupboards and drawers; the final click of a weathered black suitcase being shut; it was decided, she was returning to Hogwarts. She had made up her mind almost as soon as she'd received the letter from Professor McGonagall; change was what she needed – a new setting, a new job, new faces – yes, to get away from the stifling monotony of her situation and the recent disappointment troubling her dreams. She had scheduled a meeting with her mentor, handed in her letter of resignation and written back to the headmistress promptly to accept the offer. She had packed away her essential belongings, putting up her furnished apartment for sale. Her friends had thrown a party for her the night before, wishing her luck in her career at Hogwarts. She thought back on the evening now, a quiet smile on her lips.

Seven people including herself, crowded into Harry and Ginny's flat, laughing and talking merrily in the warm cozy glow of candlelight and wine. Neville, rather more confident than he had been at Hogwarts, was a student Bainsworth, England's wizarding school of further education, specializing in Herbology. He spoke enthusiastically about research opportunities that would become available when he returned in just a few days to begin his third year. Luna, her blond hair weaved into two fine plaits, was looking odder than ever in a strange muddy-green heather dress that reached her ankles. She had accessorized with thick brown sandals, a necklace of leaves, and bark-tree earrings. "I was feeling close to nature, I met the most intriguing Bobblebramf last week," she had explained to Hermione, who had to restrain herself from insisting that there were no such things as Bobblebramfs. Bill and Fleur had also joined them for the evening; Bill relishing the raw steaks and Fleur more dazzling than ever in an icy blue dress that danced around her legs like waves. Several others had made an appearance: Mrs. Weasley, to press even more baked treats on Hermione; George, to tell her not to be too strict and to apologize for "that twat of a brother" (he looked rather subdued without his twin) and finally Ron.

It had been a shock to all when she showed up outside the door; apparently word of the party had got round. As he had shouted at Hermione not to be ridiculous and "not to leave because you're so upset about me, I'll take you back", Harry and Bill had forcibly removed him while Ginny threatened him with another Stinging Jelly. Hermione had simply looked at him with cool disdain and turned her back to continue listening to Neville rave about the professor he'd been working with over the summer. Ron had harassed her with a series of letters that had become increasingly insulting over the past fortnight. He had begged for her to take him back. Then, he had become angry and sent her a Howler screaming that this was exactly the kind of behaviour that had driven him into the arms of the good-humoured Lavender Brown. After that, he became condescending, telling her that he knew that she must be moping and feeling bad after being humiliated by him, but not to worry because he would take her back and console her. He seemed oblivious to that Hermione disliked him even more with each letter and was becoming increasingly indifferent to him.

She was not "over" the incident; she certainly had not forgotten it. But Hermione had always been a pragmatic individual; she refused to dwell too long on painful emotions and to persist in destructive tendencies. After feeling sorry for herself for a couple of days, she had resumed her regular routine. She was also beginning to realize that the pain of the break-up had more to do with the feelings of inadequacy it had instigated rather than sorrow for losing Ron. She hardly missed him at all. But she did question her own attractiveness, her appeal; the question that troubled Hermione remained – why hadn't she been enough? These feelings had intensified when she had caught a glimpse of Lavender Brown walking down Diagon Alley on her way to work. Despite her cheap style – she had been wearing pink hotpants and a white tube top with the word "Babe" splashed in silver glitter across her ample bosom – she was obviously appealing. More than one head turn to catch a better glimpse of her long tanned legs and she even attracted a few wolf whistles (which made her strut even more). It made Hermione feel that perhaps if she had had long bleached hair and a body like Lavender's, maybe Ron would not have sought his pleasure elsewhere. Her only consolation was the word "SLUT" splashed across Lavender's rather prominent forehead. The letters were bold and red, formed by what appeared to be a constellation of violent pimples. Lavender had slapped on twice as much concealer and foundation than was customary but the branding could not be missed; Hermione had thanked Ginny for inflicting a "modern mark of Cain" on Lavender. It had caused the girl a great deal of distress; she had even considered getting a blunt fringe to hide it – unfortunately, her face was far too round to get away with that hairstyle. In the self-centred way that was typical of Lavender, she could not understand what she had done to deserve the hex. "It's not _my _fault that Hermione was too ugly to keep him interested," she had whined to her best friend Parvati. The latter, just as self-obsessed, had said reassuringly, "Oh, that was just an excuse. Ginny hexed _because she's jealous of you_. She has that awful bright red hair, and look at you, the perfect blonde". They had smiled smugly, oblivious to the reality of the artificiality of their attraction.

No, the Lavender's and Parvati's of this world would never understand why a fresh face and a vivid natural hair colour are inherently more beautiful than a bleached, straightened mane and features hidden under a rainbow of cosmetics. They would never understand why Harry was content to be true to Ginny when more stunning women were throwing themselves at him on a regular basis. They would never understand that while a girl like Hermione did not attract the attention of the average louts standing on street corners, she immediately caught the eye of a more sophisticated and intelligent man. More than once, she had left the memory of her dewy skin, understated chic and discreet feminine grace with a stranger. They would never understand that nobody remembers the one-night stand but that a pair of intelligent, shining eyes and graceful bare shoulders can be unforgettable.

As Hermione left her building, dawn was just breaking and the alley was empty. She loved this hour, when and the day was fresh and full of potential. She loved the empty streets and the sound of her own footsteps. She took it all in and spun around, apparating at King's Cross. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving soon. Once more, she would be sailing through the wall to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, traveling on that train – but this time as a teacher…


	4. Chapter 4: Hogwarts

_At last, I have written the fourth chapter of Hermione's tale; a combination of a full timetable and writer's block kept me away from this story for a while. I hope that you enjoy it; thank you for the early support and the encouragement to update! Comments are great :-) Love knowing your reactions._

**Hermione's Secret**

**CH4**

She had boarded the train. Now, she quietly observed her surroundings as shouts and the squeak of trolleys floated through the air. She was overcome by a sense of familiarity that sat uncomfortably with her own anonymity amidst an anonymous crowd. There were the three girls in her compartment; decidedly pretty, sure of themselves – on in particular looked rather like Lavender Brown had in her schools days, with carefully curled blond hair and a deftly made up face. Hermione turned to look out the window. A large family, the smallest boy gazing longingly at the train as his older brothers left him behind with his fluttering mother; a lanky blond teenager tripping over his untied shoelaces as a svelte, exotic-looking black-haired girl waved at him; old friends seeking the easy camaraderie of those they had come to call friends – yes, unfamiliar faces, familiar characters.

Beneath her sleek black robe and composed expression, she felt a tug of nostalgia for her school days and a sense of unreality. How very odd for her to sit here as a teacher! How extraordinary to perform familiar motions in a familiar setting, yet to be immersed in an alien universe. Nobody knew her when everyone should have. And she knew no one – when she should have been anxiously hoping for a glimpse of red hair and a snowy owl…she shook her shoulders decisively. That was then; it had passed. There would come a day when this universe too would be known to her and when she would long for it as she longed for her past.

They were leaving. It was time. As the last students squeezed in before the compartment doors slammed shut and the train began moving, Hermione leaned back into her seat opening _A General History of Magical Creatures_ by Sir Rodulfus Rummington; it was a book she had been meaning to read for a while. It outlined the history of creatures such as house elves, goblins, centaurs and giants, which had all been existed before humans. Hermione found it fascinating to learn about their ways of life they had established before wizards had declared themselves as their masters. She had read about two hundred pages of the thick tome – for it was a very long "general" history - when the trolley came by. Hermione was hungry so bought some Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties and every-flavour beans. She winced when she bit into a cockroach-flavoured one – it had been purple and she had expected plum – but bravely picked her way through half the bag. She smiled when with her first Frog, a collectible card showing Harry whizzing through the air on his broomstick. _Harry Potter_, it read on the reverse, _famous for his defeat of the darkest wizard of all time, Tom Marvolo Riddle – also known as Lord Voldemort – in 1998._ She had known that cards of Harry, Ron and her had been released earlier that year but this was the first time she was seeing one. She smiled again, slipping it into her pocket. She managed to read about a hundred more pages before she felt herself drifting to sleep. Soon she was only aware of the lulling sound of the train moving over the tracks; her heavy eyelids fell shut and she slept for the rest of the journey.

She was woken by the halt of the train and the sounds of excited chattering and heaving of luggage off the racks. Slightly disoriented as she always was when being awoken in an unfamiliar setting, she stretched her arms and rose slowly. As she stepped out into the cool night air with her plain suitcase, she recognized Hogsmeade. She followed the crowd, tracing familiar steps to the Black Lake. And there was Hagrid's gruff voice - "This way, hurry up now!" – and there he was looming above the confused first-years. She hurried forth, crying out "Hagrid! Hagrid!". Hearing her thin familiar voice, he stopped and she watched as with a delighted smile he saw her coming towards him.

"There yeh are! The Headmistress told me yeh were coming back!" he looked quite uncomfortable as she threw herself at him to hug him, but also quite pleased.

"Oh Hagrid! It's so good to see you, I can't believe it's been so long," she said, quite overcome with emotion. It had been a long time. Hermione had not returned to Hogwarts since her last year and although they had remained in touch, exchanging letters at birthdays and Christmas. She was pleased to see that Hagrid was one of the people of her past who hadn't changed; he was exactly the same from his overgrown beard to his muddy boots.

"Yeh haven' changed a bit since you left school – nobody would believe that yer the new Muggle Studies professor,"

Several of the first-years who had been listening to their conversation turned to stare at Hermione again and immediately began whispering.

"Well, there you have it," said Hermione, still smiling. Had she, Harry and Ron really been as small as that round-faced little boy with the solemn expression? She started as her father's words came back to her, _"You know you're getting old when everyone else starts to look young"_. Yes, she had been a student not so long ago but they seemed so small to her now. She – she, Hermione Granger, diligent student and loyal friend – was going to be their teacher. A teacher! It was absurd to her, who still thought of herself as one of them despite having left.

They were now being rowed over the great Black Lake; how glassy and still it was, and how chilly the night air felt as Hermione huddled closer to Hagrid. As they glided smoothly towards the great castle, she watched the expressions of the first-years as they caught the first proper glimpse of their school. She saw the wonderment in their eyes before she heard their gasps, before a fervent murmur traveled through the crowd. It was a wonderment that she had had on first seeing Hogwarts, and one that returned to her now as she turned her eyes to the castle. Hagrid was telling her that parts of it had been rebuilt; reconstruction had been necessary after the damaged caused by the war. She could see that it looked just as it always had, grand yet inviting and familiar.

She was burning with contained excitement by the time they reached the shore. Pulling her suitcase along, she walked briskly up to the castle, up the stone steps and through the great doors. It was here that she parted with Hagrid, whispering that she would speak to him later and hastening to the Headmistress' office. Professor McGonagall had instructed her to meet with her before the feast in the Great Hall. "Babbling baboons," she murmured, referring to the password that the headmistress had sent her. The gargoyle leapt aside before the wall split to reveal a spiraling staircase winding into place. Hermione moved forward nervously; Professor McGonagall had always been her favourite professor but was also rather intimidating, especially as headmistress.

She was sitting behind the enormous desk now, a stack of parchment before her as she scrawled across it with a scarlet quill.

"There you are Ms. Granger," she said now, looking up with a fleeting smile. It must be said that Hermione Granger had been Professor McGonagall's star pupil; the rare combination of exceptional intelligence and a hardworking nature was a winning one.

"Good evening Professor," answered Hermione, sitting down in the chair towards which the headmistress was gesturing.

Professor McGonagall had not changed very much either; she was, perhaps, slightly more lined and gray beneath her pointed black hat, but she looked as sharp and precise as ever. Her eyes were still quick and her manner dignified. Behind her, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore twinkled down pleasantly at Hermione. There was an empty space where the Sorting Hat should have been on the shelf near Gryffindor's sword; of course, it was presently engaged in the sorting ceremony.

"We are very glad that you accepted our offer Ms. Granger," said Professor McGonagall briskly, "We believe that you will be an excellent teacher despite your – er – _young_ age and inexperience," she added as she swiftly took in Hermione's fresh countenance.

"It was very good of you to offer me this post Professor,"

"You will prove yourself worthy of it, I am certain," answered Professor McGonagall, "But I must warn you may find it difficult to command respect and to discipline your class because you look so very young yourself. In fact, I think that this will be your main challenge. If I may make a small suggestion Ms. Granger, I believe it would be wise to be stern – even, a bit _hard _– at the beginning"

"I will do my best Professor"

"I received your lesson plan; I must say Ms. Granger, that I was impressed by the clear organization of ideas, thorough attention to detail – and the prompt manner in which you sent a completed syllabus although I requested only a brief outline."

"Thank you, Professor. Do you think that the textbook that I recommended is appropriate?"

"_The World Through Non-Magical Eyes_? Yes, I find Athena Lamprou's perspective fresh but also remarkably insightful for such a young author."

"I thought so too," said Hermione, "Is there anything else I should know?"

"After the feast I will show you the Gryffindor teachers' common room which opens out into separate quarters. You will find your schedule, class lists and other teaching materials in your quarters. Your first class is tomorrow morning at eleven. If you have any questions, you may consult me or any of the other teachers – Professors Snape and Flitwick are still with us, among others that you will surely recognize – and we will be pleased to help you. And now if you are ready, it is time for the feast."

Hermione followed Professor McGonagall down to the Great Hall, which by now was filled with freshly-sorted first years buzzing with excitement about their respective houses and older students adopting a blasé attitude. Candlelight cast a warm, inviting glow on the long tables and the ceiling was enchanted to look like a bed of shimmering stars against a navy ocean tonight; it was as she had remembered, familiar, comforting and brimming with vitality. How different it was from the day that Dumbledore had announced the return of Voldemort and mourned Cedric Diggory's death! What a sweet pleasure it was to return to this Hogwarts – the one that she had re-visited only in memory. It was the school she had been enchanted by as a Muggle-born, fascinated by its magic and delighted in the strange new world that had been revealed to her.

How strange to take her place at the teachers' table, looking down at the long rows of students – Professor Flitwick choking on his Firewhiskey as Hagrid told an off-colour joke; Professor Sprout looking rather more grubby than usual; Professor Trelawney, predicting the gruesome death of a young-looking witch with wavy red hair and a skeptical, somewhat haughty expression; a dapper-looking older man with round spectacles listening intently to a rather sharp-faced witch with short black hair; a beautiful-looking young man with astonishingly bright green eyes staring into space; and finally, Professor Snape, looking straight in front of him with his hands crossed, his lank hair slightly longer than she remembered, as uninviting as ever. The only empty seat was next to him. Hesitantly she took it, not knowing where to look; she did not want to be rude but she also did not want to seem over-eager. She sneaked a sideways glance and saw that he was looking determinedly straight in front. Instead, she nodded towards the handsome blond man with the bright eyes who was looking at her with interest.

"Are you the new teacher?" he asked politely. His voice was soft, unexpectedly gentle.

"I would have thought that obvious, Aemilius," came the familiar drawl from the other side of Hermione. She turned to see him looking at the younger man with obvious distaste, a characteristic sneer etched on his lips.

"Just observing the niceties, Severus," responded Aemilius lightly, "A lady is to be treated courteously"

Snape raised his eyebrows slightly but did not reply, turning his attention to his pale long hands once again. Hermione smiled at Aemilius.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced herself, "And yes, I am the new Muggle Studies teacher."

"Aemilius Arthur," he replied with a charming smile, "Defense against the Dark Arts. My pleasure. Your name, it is familiar…"

"Granger was notorious for being a know-it-all during her time at Hogwarts," interjected Snape, rather maliciously.

This time Hermione turned to glare at him; being called an "insufferable know-it-all" in front of her classmates had been humiliating as a schoolgirl – to be labeled as such in front of this attractive young professor was annoying.

"Aren't you Harry Potter's friend? You helped destroy Lord Voldemort, didn't you?" asked Aemilius, ignoring Snape.

"Yes, Harry is one of my best friends. I guess I did help a bit," answered Hermione modestly.

"Well that explains why you look much too young to be teacher"

"You look barely older than I do," she replied laughing.

"My mother was a Veela; they never age and their children look much younger than their years," he explained.

Veela blood; that explained his extraordinary beauty, fairness and the hypnotic quality of his soft voice.

"I'm quite nervous about my first day," she confessed.

"You certainly have cause to be if you plan on answering all your own questions," said Snape, interrupting heartfelt reassurance from Aemilius.

Feeling more than a bit irritated by now, she whipped around to face Snape who was looking at her with something like amusement; she was about to speak her mind when Professor McGonagall rose and the Great Hall fell silent; it was time for the Headmistress' speech. She bit her tongue and turned her attention to the Headmistress, trying to ignore Snape's proximity; her retort would have to wait.


	5. Chapter 5 : Introductions

_Thank you for the feedback, especially the great comments! Hope you enjoy this, and as always, I like hearing what you have to say :-)_

CH5

"Welcome all, to yet another year at Hogwarts! First-years, by this time you have been sorted into your respective houses and observed your surroundings; there is plenty yet for you to explore and discover – but might I ask you not to wander anywhere tonight. After the feast, you will be lead to your dormitories by your house prefects – tomorrow will be a long day for which you will need to be rested," began Professor McGonagall, somewhat sternly. From her vantage point, Hermione could see many first-years looking awestruck; a few faces, however, already looked rebellious.

"You should know that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to students," continued the headmistress, looking around in a rather hawk-like manner, "may that be a warning to newcomers and a reminder to returning students," she cast a glance towards a freckled boy with a glint in his eye who was whispering to his equally mischievous looking friend at the Hufflepuff table.

"This year, we have two new professors; Iola Lefebvre, who trained and taught at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and will be teaching Ancient Runes. She has also been on expeditions to North Africa and the Far East." The red-haired witched lifted her hand; and attracted quite a hearty round of applause along with a few wolf whistles. As Hermione turned to look at her again, she noted that she was quite beautiful; her profile was very fine, though she did have an air of haughtiness about her.

"We also welcome Hermione Granger; one of Hogwarts' finest students and leader of the resistance movement against Lord Voldemort. She has campaigned for the rights of House Elves in various European countries including Italy, Sweden, Finland and Germany. She will be teaching Muggle Studies," Professor McGonagall's pride in her former student was evident in her succinct but glowing introduction.

Hermione met her eye and smiled as she received a welcoming clap and even a few cheers. In the crowd a whisper was carrying about her role in the fight against Voldemort and about how young she looked to be teaching. Aemilius looked at her again with renewed admiration. Iola Lefebvre was looking at her as well with considerable interest but she was not smiling. After a minute-long appraisal, she turned her delicate heart-shaped face again, apparently dismissive.

"And now," said Professor McGonagall with a brief smile, "I will not keep you from your feast any longer."

She sat down to a round of applause, as the empty plates in front of them were suddenly laden with food. As she poured herself some pumpkin juice, she smiled ruefully at the looks of astonishment on some of the first-years' faces at the sudden appearance of delicious-looking food before their eyes; they were probably Muggle born, she reflected.

Hermione spent most of the meal engaged in conversation with Aemilius, who also shared her passion for ensuring equal rights for all magical creatures. More than once, she snuck a glance at Snape who looked particularly disdainful of their discussion. She had decided not to admonish him for his earlier remarks; it did not seem that Aemilius had payed much attention to them, and besides, Snape's unpleasantness was hardly surprising. She had thought of him differently since Harry had told her about Snape's memory and his love for Lily. She had been glad that he had survived the war and that his name had been cleared. Now though, sitting next to him, she was once more reminded of her school days with Snape as Potions master and recalled just how vindictive he could be; she had never really forgiven him for the remark he had made about her teeth, petty as that may be.

"I don't think I know the older gentleman and the witch sitting next to him," Hermione commented, looking curiously at the two who were in deep conversation.

"The gentleman is Nicolaus Sandwell," Snape informed her before Aemilius could speak, "He has replaced that doddering fool of a History professor Binns. The woman is Melaena Krantz; she has been the Transfiguration professor since Minerva became headmistress. They have both had highly successful international careers."

Hermione felt suddenly inadequate; she was seated beside witches and wizards older than herself, with more experience than she could ever imagine having, who had seen far-away places and taught successfully in multiple settings and tongues.

"Don't worry, I predict you will be an excellent teacher," interjected Aemilius kindly, seeming to sense her trepidation.

She smiled weakly.

"The gift of teaching is given to few," murmured Snape.

"Apparently not to you," quipped Aemilius.

Snape gave him a black look and resumed carving his pot roast.

Hermione continued her conversation with Aemilius; they discovered that they had several favourite authors in common as well as a certain distaste for Quidditch.

"I don't hate it," confessed Hermione, "But I've never understood the fuss over it,"

"I find it rather brainless," said Aemilius.

"That is probably one of the few sensible thoughts you have had Aemilius," commented Snape. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, "Ms. Granger's best friends are avid Quidditch players; is Potter still strutting around with his broomstick?"

"Harry never strutted," answered Hermione coolly.

"He had a head almost as oversized as his father's," sneered Snape, "Surely Weasley is still whizzing around, the ever-faithful sidekick?"

Hermione flushed slightly at the mention of Ron.

"It's rather childish of you to bear grudges against students," she told Snape disdainfully.

"There is a difference between speaking the truth and bearing a grudge," Snape tried to be careless but it was clear that she had irritated him.

"You _are_ being quite churlish Severus, if I may say so," Aemilius added.

"Your opinion is of no consequence Aemilius,"

"Really, there is no reason to be so unpleasant Severus," said Aemilius, looking quite ruffled by this time.

"Ms. Granger! Do come here so that I can introduce you to your colleagues," called Professor McGonagall.

Students were filing out of the hall and the other members of the staff had risen and were standing in a circle, speaking with the headmistress.

"You look well Ms. Granger," nodded Professor Sprout, "Good to see you at Hogwarts again," she said in her straightforward manner.

"My dear girl, you look quite pale, I fear that evil may befall you," was Professor Trelawney's greeting; Professor McGonagall tutted irritably and Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes – Professor Trelawney had clearly not forgiven Hermione for her outburst in her class.

"Our Hermione, grown up," said Hagrid, his eyes misting over; he had drunk rather too much Firewhisky and was now dabbing his eyes with a filthy-looking handkerchief, earning a look of disgust from Snape.

"Now, now, no need to be overly sentimental Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said looking quite alarmed at this outpouring of emotion.

"Sorry," sniffed Hagrid.

"Ms. Granger – it seems that you have met Aemilius Arthur. Allow me to introduce you to Iola Lefebvre –"

"Enchanted," Iola's voice was purring and seductive, yet she did not sound at all enchanted. As Hermione took her extended hand, she marveled at its extreme fragility. Looking at the other woman's face, she realized that she was actually very alluring with deep violet eyes and beautifully balanced features. She also realized that Iola disliked her.

"My pleasure," said Hermione softly, releasing her hand.

"Melaena Krantz, Transfiguration – "

The woman's handshake was brisk and her smile quick but not unfriendly.

"Nicolaus Sandwell, History of Magic – "

An old-fashioned gentleman, very _comme il faut_, he bowed slightly to her.

"A pleasure to have you with us Ms. Granger, truly a pleasure" squeaked Professor Flitwick.

Snape remained silent as the group turned to him expectantly.

"Oh for heaven's sake," exclaimed Professor McGonagall impatiently, "Must you always be so unpleasant Severus?"

Not waiting for a reply from a sullen-looking Snape, she turned to Hermione once again,

"We are _all_ very pleased to have you here. If you need any help, do not hesitate to seek it. And now, if you would please show Ms. Granger to the teachers' lounge and her quarters Severus; I would have done it myself but there is some urgent business to which I must attend immediately. Goodnight, I will see you all at dinner tomorrow."

Hermione glanced at Snape who looked extremely unwilling to follow the headmistress' orders. He swept forward, indicating that she follow. Smiling and waving at Aemilius, she hurried after Snape who was already a few paces ahead of her.


	6. Chapter 6 : A room for Hermione

_This one's a more descriptive chapter than anything. Enjoy!_

CH6

"Do hurry Ms. Granger; I don't want to spend all night child minding," Snape called over his shoulder.

Eyes narrowing, Hermione quickened her step.

They had left the Great Hall, turned a few corridors, climbed several staircases, turned yet more corridors, and reached a large gold-framed portrait of the founders of Hogwarts. They were sitting around a round mahogany table with a gleaming polished surface. Godric Gryffindor, square and proud was polishing his sword; Helga Hufflepuff was drinking out of a small golden cup; Salazar Slytherin, resplendent in a silver and green get-up, was rubbing his head; finally Rowena Ravenclaw, with skin like a snow-blanketed landscape and glittering eyes, beautiful in a pale blue gown, sat turned away from the rest, adjusting the diadem on her hair, gazing out of the window.

"_Lethe_," said Snape. Salazar lifted his chin and the portrait swung open. Hermione climbed in after Snape, and gasped. She now found herself standing in the room she had seen in the portrait. The mahogany table gleamed, the heavy red draperies framed a large window – but now the red-cushioned stools were empty. Sumptuous armchairs embroidered with gold and silver waited invitingly. A large oriental rug covered the shining dark wood floor. On the two walls furthest apart, hung life-size portraits of the founders. Salazar Slytherin hung beside Godric Gryffindor, both proud and strong; though Gryffindor was riding a magnificent roaring tawny lion in an open field, while Slytherin sat in a library with a snake coiled around his shoulders and a quill perched above a scroll of parchment. Helga Hufflepuff beamed from across the room, plump and welcoming, ushering students through the gates of Hogwarts in her black and yellow robes. A full-length portrait showed Rowena Ravenclaw standing silently by the Great Lake, ethereal in a pale Grecian gown in the mists of dawn. There was a great sadness and mystery surrounding her, and here as well, her face was turned away. Hermione gazed at her portrait for a long time.

"This is the teachers' lounge," said Snape, sounding bored, "We come here for meetings, to immerse ourselves in the history of Hogwarts – you will find many unusual books and artefacts here – and for relaxation."

"It's lovely," breathed Hermione, taking in the oriental splendor of the decor.

"You will have time to admire it at your leisure in coming weeks," said Snape impatiently, "If you're ready, I will show you to your quarters."

Nodding, Hermione followed him out of the portrait hole and hurried after him down several staircases. She had forgotten that the Muggle Studies classrooms were only a staircase above Snape's dungeons, almost on the same level as the Great Hall. He led her down a dark corridor, to the last classroom. There, he stood with his hand on the blackboard, whispering, "_Ruminare_". Hermione watched in amazement as it slid to the left, revealing an opening. She followed Snape and found herself in a pretty room. This one made use of white wood, lace and flowers; a square white table stood in the middle of the room, the airy white curtains floated as the wind swept into the room through the open windows; a seductive scent filled the air, and Hermione was reminded at once of white roses and the waves outside Shell Cottage. She stood still as Snape's black robes and her loose hair billowed in the soft night breeze.

"These are your quarters. You will find a bathroom and bedroom behind those white doors. Beyond the curtain at the back of the room is another door which provides a passageway to the Great Hall. To reset your password just whisper it to the sleeping girl," Snape told her.

Hermione turned around to see that that on the other side of the blackboard was the portrait of a beautiful girl sleeping face down on the shore; it was a lovely picture – her bare legs long and white as the water moved over them and then revealed them again, her long white-gold hair covering her back. Above her the sky was clear and pale and the beach lay below a white castle on a hill.

"Is that the little mermaid?" Hermione asked, transfixed.

"What's that?" Snape said distractedly – he had been looking out the window - "Oh yes. She has now returned to the sea of course. Utter foolishness, seeking to be what she was not. Unless you have questions Ms. Granger, I shall take leave of you now."

"Of course, thank you," said Hermione. Nodding curtly, Snape passed through the short passageway leading into the classroom again and disappeared almost before the blackboard had time to swing shut after him.

Hermione went to the window. It opened out onto a view of the Whomping Willow and the Forbidden Forest. She squinted – what was that? At the edge of the forest, stood a figure; a woman with waist-length wavy red hair worn loose over a long green jacket. She seemed to be standing alone and still. Hermione observed her – yes it was Iola LeFebvre and now she had turned to walk back to the castle. Hermione now walked to the white table; she saw that Professor McGonagall had left her class lists, a schedule, rolls of parchment, quills and what looked like a score book. Sitting down in a squashy mint green armchair that sighed as she sank into it, Hermione perused the names on the list for the class she was teaching the next day:

_Acantha Asper…Basilius Altworth_…_Patricius_ _Amory_…_Oriana Bartholomew_…_Jane Brunthweilde…Ismene George_…_Alice Wang..._nobody that she recognized. She would be teaching mainly third and fourth years, a handful of fifth years; mostly students who had never taken Muggle Studies but also some intermediate students and a few who would be sitting their OWL's that year. That was part of the reason that she had assigned _The World Through Non-Magical Eyes_; many chapters were suitable for those with no prior knowledge but quite a few handled more complex issues expertly – it would be excellent for those who wanted to do some further reading and also for panicked exam-takers who wanted to review forgotten concepts.

She reviewed her schedule; she met with three different classes, each three times a week. She had most afternoons to herself which was nice. Hermione got to her feet and opened her suitcase, waving her wand so that her textbook and carefully written syllabi sailed onto the table. She then explored her living space; Snape had been right – one white door opened onto a small but pretty bedroom with white walls, soft-looking bed with mint green covers that seemed to be rippling gently like waves on the sea. There was a white dresser and a vanity table, long cupboards and an enchanted ceiling which reflected a clear pale sky. The other white door revealed a gleaming bathroom which held an immaculate marble bathtub – shaped rather like a cloud - with numerous gold taps. Fluffy Turkish towels hung on the walls and the floor was golden too but covered with a soft furry pink rug. Everything – from the toilet to the sink – was polished, shining and new. Hermione smiled. After unpacking her suitcase – flicking her wand adroitly to hang her coats, robes and dresses, stack her blouses and sort her undergarments into their rightful places - and satisfied with her orderly, charming-looking room, she decided to take a bath. Unlike Harry who had visited the Prefects' Bathroom in his fourth year, Hermione had never experienced the coloured streams of water of Hogwarts' bathtubs. Now she delightedly mixed blue, green and white. She discovered that they had different scents and consistencies; blue was fresh and bubbling, white was sweet and creamy, green was clear and sharp like mint.

She leaned back, relaxing in the confusion of aromas and luxuriously soft scented foam that surrounded her. Bubbles floated in the air around her and the bathroom light was hazy and golden. She let out a giggle, enveloped in warmth and soothing sensations. Hogwarts…it was good to be back.


	7. Chapter 7 : First Class

*****Hi Everyone! Sorry for taking so long - over a year! - to update. A lot has happened and I've begun writing again, and think I'm more ready than ever to write this story. Hope you start reading again!*****

Hermione opened her eyes to a soothing pink and blue sunrise. She had never slept so well in her life and the air was fragrant with the scent of oriental lilies. As she set up, she noticed that the green glass vase that had been empty on her bedside table the night before was filled with the freshest, most delicate and lovely white lilies she had ever seen. She wondered where they had come from. As she got out of bed, the sheets slid from her and gracefully re-arranged themselves. Hermione smiled. She felt relaxed, calm, and ready for her first day of teaching.

After dressing – she wore a navy skirt, white blouse and black tights underneath her black robes – she began to feel nervous. She wondered what her students would be like, whether they would like her and be interested in the course she had created. Squaring her shoulders, she walked into her living room, picked up her class materials, and headed down the passage that led to the Great Hall.

There, she joined the other professors at their table. Aemilius waved excitedly when he saw her; he had saved her a seat. Snape merely scowled and Iola Lefebvre, radiant in sapphire blue robes, pretended not to have noticed her. The excited chatter of students and the scent of toasted muffins and marmalade wafted through the air. As she spread a fragrant wildflower jam across her toast, Hermione realized how much she had missed breakfast at Hogwarts. With the bottomless dishes, hearty food and lively ambiance, it was always an interesting experience for her.

Aemilius was making conversation, unable to hide his enthusiasm at seeing her.

"Are you teaching soon?" he wanted to know.

"In about half an hour," Hermione replied, and felt a flutter in her stomach.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll love you," Aemilius smiled, hesitated for a moment and then touched her hand.

Hermione blushed at the gesture but smiled back at him. He really was extraordinarily attractive with his thick wavy hair and shining eyes.

Just then, Iola rose and walked over to stand behind Aemilius. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear. Snape's face looked darker than ever.

"Yes, yes" he said irritably, "That's fine."

She smiled seductively at him before walking away gracefully, turning more than a few heads as she exited the great hall.

"She asked me to meet her for lunch, said she thought it would be good since we're new," he explained to Hermione.

"Oh, of course, that sounds like a good idea," she replied.

"Well, I'd already said yes, even though I didn't really want to, and I was rather hoping that I could see you instead. Are you free in the afternoon?"

Hermione blushed again, "Well, yes, most of my afternoons are free. Perhaps another time this week?"

"Well, how about we meet in the Great Hall at one o'clock? I'll have finished lunch with her then. We can take a small picnic out to the Great Lake."

"Yes, that sounds lovely! Are you sure that another day wouldn't be better?"

"No," he whispered, "I'd really like to see you this afternoon."

Hermioned smiled, flattered.

"Well, I look forward to it," she said, "And now I'm headed to my first class!"

She turned to wave at him as she walked out of the Great Hall, noticing that he was still looking at her from afar.

Her classroom was already full by the time she arrived. It was a warmly lit this morning and the buzz of conversation slowly died as she walked to the front of the room. Calmly, she surveyed the faces looking back at her. The attractive blond girl she had seen on the train. A tall, bored-looking boy who managed to exude elegance in his black uniform robes. An earnest-looking, dark-haired girl whose book was already open. A group of boys laughing at each other. Freckled-faced twin girls. They looked interested and eager.

"Good morning. My name is Hermione Granger. You can put your books away, you won't be needing them today. In fact, you can leave them in your rooms – they're for assigned reading."

Books immediately disappeared into backpacks as they watched her.

"If you're in this class, you know by now that there are fundamental differences between the way Muggles and wizards live. This class will allow you to explore these differences more fully, as we learn about the concept of beauty in the Muggle world, through a variety of art forms"

After asking the students to introduce themselves, she continued her lesson.

On the wall, she conjured several images of women's fashions from the late-fifteenth century to modern times. She smiled, satisfied with her students' reaction to the pictures of coated denim and sequined blazers.

"How do they do that without magic?" wondered Ismene George, the blond girl, who was eyeing an image of pink skinny jeans lustfully.

"Why does the dress style change so much?" interjected Basilius Altworth, a little defiantly. He was the tall, slightly arrogant-looking boy she had noticed earlier.

"Why do the women wear these trouser-like contraptions? And why are they so tight?"

Alice Wang's earnest face was perplexed.

"These are all excellent questions, which we shall answer over the course of the term. But today, we must discuss the syllabus"

After giving her students handouts, Hermione enumerated course objectives, assignments and projects. One in particular, "My Day as a Muggle", caused quite an uproar. It was the final project for the class, and the students were to find a Muggle-born friend whose home they were to live in for one day. Before leaving, they were to detail their expectations in a journal, and afterwards, recount the experience, noting how it was different from a typical day in their home, with attention to challenges faced and feelings of displacement. Some students were openly enthusiastic, smiling, nodding and whispering to their friends, while others grumbled about "too much work" and "not knowing Muggles".

"You are expected to make a maximum effort with all projects and complete them on time. No late work will be accepted. Reading is an essential part of this course and must not be left until the last minute. You will be expected to discuss the assigned chapters. Well, for next time, as indicated on the syllabus, read the first two chapters of _The World through Non-Magical Eyes_. Until then."

She retreated to her room after the students had left for a few moments of calm until her second – and last – class of the day. It had gone well she thought, they seemed like a keen group, generally enthusiastic and energetic. She gathered her materials and prepared to meet with her class of fifth years.

Her plans for this group were slightly different. She wanted to work with them on a project of their choice, while preparing them for the theoretical and practical O.W.L's, refining their knowledge and aptitude to function in the Muggle World.

This class also went quite smoothly, though there was a distinct anxious feeling permeating the group, typical for this year. One or two of the boys, older and bolder than her third years, seemed distracted, either by pretty girls in the classroom, or staring at her. In fact, one boy with red hair had actually winked at her as he left the room, making her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and mild disapproval.

She went back to her room, reading and relaxing until about a quarter to one. To her surprise, she found herself applying some faint pink lip color and re-arranging her hair as she anticipated the afternoon stroll with Aemilius. After fussing for a few minutes, she gathered herself and followed the passage to the Great Hall.

From a distance, she could see Aemilius and Iola LeFebvre. Iola was talking to him but he looked bored and his plate was still full of food. Hermione waved to him as she approached the table, and he stood up immediately, grinning at her. Iola's faced changed suddenly, closing as her eyes moved from Hermione to Aemilius.

"Hermione! Should you get some food? Then we can take a stroll. It seems to be a glorious day."

"But Aemilius, you haven't finished your lunch yet," said Iola laughingly lightly.

"Oh, I'll take it outside, Hermione and I had planned to stroll," he answered, barely looking at her. From under his silvery robes, he whipped out a large picnic basket, making Hermione giggle girlishly.

They filled it with fruits, bread, and their plates with meats and vegetables. Aemilius linked his arm through Hermione's, leading her out of the Great Hall – as Iola watched, fuming - and into the splendid grounds of Hogwarts. The sun was high in the sky and cast a beautiful golden light on the trees and grass. Hermione smiled. It was good to be back.


	8. Chapter 8: Comptine d'un autre été

_*This chapter was named after Yann Tiersen's beautiful piece from the film _Amélie_…I think it characterizes the soft, romantic setting of this episode very well. I listened to it while writing. Comment if you like it and encourage me to write more. Thank you!*_

**Ch 8 **

**Comptine d'un autre été : L'après-midi**

As they walked through the sprawling grounds, under the towering trees and smoky blue mountains in the distance, Hermione let herself absorb the perfection of the moment. It was an unusually warm day, so warm that she had unclasped her robe. The gentle autumn sun caressed her hair and skin through the silk of her blouse, the air smelled new and refreshing. The lake glimmered in the distance, vast and imperturbable. She glanced at Aemilius, who walked slowly beside her, still holding her arm.

She felt strangely shy. Victor Krum had been the only boy who had really shown her very much attention, and in some ways, the schoolgirl she thought she had outgrown couldn't reconcile with the fact that someone as handsome and charming as Aemilius was interested in her. It was strange, flattering and nerve-wracking all at once. She was at a loss for words, an apparently, he was as well. He glanced at her quickly, looked away and then looked back, laughing suddenly.

"What is it?"

"It's just that this is the last thing I expected to find, here. You are so unexpected."

Not knowing how to reply, Hermione just smiled and looked away again.

They had reached the lake. They sat down under a tall tree, unpacking the basket. Eating on the bank of the Great Lake, on the soft green grass was one of the most pleasurable experiences Hermione had enjoyed recently. She leaned back on her elbows, half-closing her eyes. The sunlight came dappled through the branches, casting a hazy, dancing pattern on her face and legs. It was incredibly soothing and she felt a smile appear slowly on her face.

Aemilius was watching her, turned towards her, propped on a single elbow.

"You wear such strange clothes, but they suit you," he said, shyly, "You make a pretty picture."

"Thank you. But these aren't strange clothes at all. Not in the Muggle World."

"I have never ventured to the Muggle World. Do you miss it?"

"I miss my parents sometimes. The magical world is so much more exciting to me, because so much of it still surprises and awes me."

"I wish that I still had that attitude," sighed Aemilius.

"Perhaps you could retrieve it by spending some time in the Muggle World. I can take you there."

"Perhaps, but I may be too old for wonder."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I was in love with a girl last summer," replied Aemilius, suddenly distant, "She was from my hometown, St Abbs, in Scotland. We had grown up together, spent many summers by the water. We were to be married in the Spring. But she fell in love with my cousin."

"I am so sorry," whispered Hermione.

"And what about you? Do you have lost loves?"

Hermione gave him a wry smile, "I was seeing my best friend from Hogwarts. Everyone had always thought we would be together. He was cheating on me with a girl we used to know in school."

"I am sorry to hear that as well. He must be an idiot."

Aemilius reached for her hand suddenly.

"You know, Hermione, I was haunted by the memory of Sloan for so long. I told you that story because since I met you, she doesn't invade my thoughts so much anymore"

Hermione had also shifted onto her side and their hands were clasped as his eyes held hers, fervently bright.

"I hope you liked the lilies," he whispered.

"You sent them?" she was genuinely surprised.

"Yes…I thought that lilies suited you."

"They are beautiful. Thank you," she smiled. It was romantic, dream-like and flattering. She felt like the girl in Renoir's painting, _The Swing_, in a dappled paradise of an afternoon. She laughed out loud.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking how like the girl in Renoir's painting I feel."

"Renoir? Who is that?"

"You don't know Renoir?" asked Hermione, stunned, "Oh of course…you didn't grow up with the same artists…he's a painter. He paints incredibly pretty, dream-like scenes."

"Then you are right, this does feel like a dream,"

He smiled, and his face was more beautiful than ever.

And before she knew what was happening, he had leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. They both blushed and looked down at the grass.

From behind a tree, Hermione thought she heard giggles. She sat up quickly. To her horror, Ismene George – the young student from her morning class – and another blond, pretty girl were standing by a tree a few feet away, watching them.

"Sorry to interrupt Professor," she said, pink from trying not to laugh, "Please continue enjoying your afternoon."

Before the stunned, mortified Hermione could reply, the girls spun round and ran away, towards the castle.

"Oh no," she groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead, "That girl is one of my students,"

"Oh dear," said Aemilius, "Well, never mind, perhaps she will find some other news to interest her soon,"

But Hermione wasn't convinced. Something about Ismene George had reminded her strongly of Lavender Brown the first time she'd seen her, and Hermione suspected that gossip would spread all over Hogwarts by morning. It wasn't that they had been doing anything forbidden or terrible, but Hermione hated the thought of the whole school discussing her personal life. She wondered how much Ismene and her friend had heard of their conversation.

"Perhaps," she said distractedly. She looked up to see Aemilius looking at her hopefully. She smiled.

"Aemilius, I've had such a wonderful afternoon, but now I must return to prepare for tomorrow. Shall we walk back to the castle?"

"Of course, of course," he helped her up, and they strolled back leisurely, laughing and making light conversation.

Outside the Great Hall, they paused.

"Well Hermione, that was truly a blissful hour with you," he told her, "I hope that we take more strolls."

She nodded gently, as he held her hand for a few moments before she turned to walk away.


	9. Chapter 9 : An Unexpected Dinner Guest

_*An unexpected visit stirs tension, excitement and gossip*_

**Ch 9**

**The Unexpected Dinner Guest**

The evening's events unfolded unexpectedly and rapidly. Hermione arrived to dinner to find the Iola was seated next to Aemilius. As he tried to stand to speak to her, the other woman placed her hand over his and whispered something in is ear. The only place left was next to Snape, who was slicing his roast chicken in silence. As Hermione began helping herself to the various stews and roasts, she noticed that several groups of students seemed to be giggling and whispering while looking in her direction. No, she must be imagining things, it couldn't be…

"I hear that you have been settling in splendidly at Hogwarts," Snape commented, surprising her by breaking the silence.

"Why, yes, thank you, everyone has been most welcoming," she replied, uncertainly.

"Welcoming is one way to describe it…some would call it overeager," sneered Snape.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Hermione was beginning to feel irritable. Why must he always be so unpleasant, so sarcastic and rude?

"You should be cautious about being too…friendly, shall we say?...Ms. Granger. As you know, students tend to be insufferable gossips."

It couldn't be. Ismene George couldn't have spread the rumour already…

"Hermione!" Aemilius was standing over her, hand on her shoulder, "I was trying to tell you…I think…I think they know!"

"No need to wonder about it. They do know" murmured Snape, a hint of amusement in his drawl.

"Oh no! Already? Did they hear anything?"

Aemilius' face was grave. Before he could answer, Snape spoke up again.

"We heard all about your convoluted love triangle with Weasley and Lavender Brown. And about Aemilius' tragic lost love"

"There's no need to be so snide," began Aemilius, his face flushing.

"Oh, why don't you shut up, Professor?"

Hermione was shocked the moment the words slipped out of her mouth. She had been feeling particularly irritable and anxious about what the students had heard, and she had run out of patience with Snape's ungracious attitude.

"There's no need to get flustered. Perhaps too much time around Potter has taken its toll," Snape appeared indifferent and his voice was as smooth and unhurried as ever.

"Aemilius, you told me that you would discuss my lesson plan," Iola was looking towards them.

Aemilius looked at her irritably.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow Hermione, try not worry too much," he said, before taking his seat next to Iola again, who darted Hermione a triumphant look.

Hermione rolled her eyes, more irritated than ever. Did Iola really think she cared that Aemilius was speaking to her? She had more important things to worry about at the moment, like her reputation as a young professor.

"That's not the most becoming expression," commented Snape silkily.

Hermione glanced at him; he was staring straight ahead.

"I don't care to look becoming"

"That much is obvious. You don't seem disconcerted by your rival?"

"She's not a rival," snapped Hermione, annoyed at being distracted from her thoughts on how to minimize the rumours.

"Oh? She is attractive. Do you mean to say that you don't return dear Aemilius' affections?"

"For goodness' sake, I'm not thinking about Aemilius right now!"

"Because it may be kinder to let him know if you don't, he's quite pathetic in his attentions towards you."

"Perhaps to you friendliness is pathetic, but I find him charming,"

"Charm," sneered Snape, "is the weapon of the insincere and the cloak of the deceitful."

Before Hermione could reply, a commotion at the entrance of the Great Hall disrupted the atmosphere. From behind the wooden doors, Hagrid's voice could be heard bellowing.

"Yeh're not wanted in here, yeh hear? Out with yeh lad, get off, get off!"

A scuffle could be heard, along with more shouting. Professor McGonagall stood and marched briskly to the doors, throwing them open.

"What on EARTH is going on Hagrid?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the scene. Held by the collar, with his hair disheveled and his shirt slightly torn, stood a red-face Ron, with Hagrid fuming above him.

A murmur carried through the Great Hall.

"That's Ron…Ron Weasley…"

"That's the boy Ismene told us about…"

"He's Professor Granger's boyfriend!"

"No, stupid, her ex!"

"I tried to keep him out Headmistress, I swear I did, the lad just kept shouting about seeing 'ermione. I told him it wasn't the time and he started fighting, I can smell the Firewhisky on 'im"

"Ronald Weasley, what do you mean by this disgraceful behavior?" Hermione shuddered as Professor McGonagall glared coldly at Ron. She had forgotten how fearsome she could be.

"Hermione!"

Ron had broken loose from Hagrid's grip and was racing down the rows of tables, drawing gasps from the students and some delighted laughter. Hermione tried to turn away, mortified.

"No use, Granger. They all know he's here to see you," murmured Snape, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

"Ron, what are you doing?" she admonished him, standing up.

Aemilius was staring, Iola's eyebrows were raised and several of the professors were looking from Hermione to Ron, confused.

"Hermione! I've come to get you! To carry you home. You know you don't want to be here…"

"Ron, please, not here," said Hermione, embarrassed by his shouting.

"No! I've waited too long! I miss you Hermione! Please come back with me. I'm sorry about Lavender…she's stupid...you know everyone said we're supposed to be together…"

The students were taking in the spectacle with rapt attention. Hermione could see Ismene George whispering furiously with her friends.

"Ron, please leave. I am not coming back with you. I'm teaching here," she said quietly.

"Hermione! No! You can't do this to me! First Viktor Krum, now this…"

"Ron, you are drunk. Please go home."

Ron had made his way around the table and was now attempting to hug Hermione who fought him off, irritably.

"Weasley, can't you take a hint?" drawled Snape lazily, as he stood and easily pulled Ron away from Hermione.

"Smarmy git… get off me, get off…slimy git…" Ron was incoherent and Snape looked at him in cold disgust as he was released and fell to the floor.

"Hagrid, remove Weasley from the grounds," Snape ordered the approaching Hagrid.

"Get up, get up yeh great lump," Hagrid grunted, heaving Ron off the floor.

Ron continued shouting as he was led out of the Great Hall and could be heard until he was well outside the castle.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall, looking around, flustered, "Let's not dwell on that unpleasantness, finish your desserts everyone."

But already, Hermione could see the students whispering excited and laughing between themselves. Aemilius had made his way over, asking her whether she was alright.

"Excuse me," she said, "I'll talk to you later."

She made her way out of the hall, wanting to be alone. She found a quiet bench under some trees just outside, and sat down, the day's events spinning in her mind. First the afternoon with Aemilius, and now, Ron, actually showing up at Hogwarts, and causing a scene in front of everyone, her students, her colleagues…Hermione groaned.

She would have to apologize to Professor McGonagall. She would have to appear calm and unflustered in class the next morning. How typical and stupid of Ron, to barge in at the most inappropriate time and place, stinking of Firewhisky.

"You know, I rather think he did you a favor by succumbing to that foolish girl."

Hermione started, and turned to see Snape, already drifting away in his black robes. He hadn't waited for a reply and was already far away by the time she began to speak.

"I rather think he did," she said to herself quietly.


End file.
